


Five Things You Saw, Four Things Felt, Three Things Heard

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dissociation, Sexual Coercion, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: While off the station Julian and Garak are assaulted at gunpoint, and Garak is powerless to stop it.





	1. Chapter 1

The Klingon's plasma rifle swung lazily from Julian to Garak and back. He smiled.

Julian tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. "I'm with the Federation. Do you understand? They will miss us."

Beside him Garak was very still. The only sound was his gentle, stilted breathing.

"Oh, I understand," the Klingon said. "I'm trying to decide if I care."

He sized them up for a moment.

"Hey," he said. "You know something? I've never seen a human mate before."

Julian froze as if he could will himself to disappear.

"Yeah, I think that would do it. One of you blow the other one and I'll let you traipse back to the Federation. How about it?"

His breath caught in his throat.

"We..." Garak's voice was hoarse. "I..."

"We won't do it, of course," Julian said, trying to sound braver than he was. "The Federation and the Empire are allies. You would be severely reprimanded, at the very least."

"Yeah, well, here's the thing about that." The klingon waved his gun a bit. "Things like reprimands and punishments and intergalactic incidents, those all happen in the future. I'm more concerned with what I can do in the present..." His gun slowed to point at Garak. "I can see what's inside your friend's head, for instance."

No. No no no no.

"Alright. What about you, hmm? What if I poke around in the human's head for a bit?"

Julian turned to look and Garak, still so still, was looking at him.

"Julian," he said, his voice calm but dull. "Let me."

"What?"

Garak shook his head.

"I do believe he's offering his services," the klingon said. If a klingon could sound amused he did.

"No."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Garak said softly. "Why don't you go ahead and... er... let me..."

His head shook. He could feel himself start to shake.

He heard himself say, "No..." but it sounded muffled and far off.

Garak came to him and stood so close, too close, and Julian felt Garak's rough hands take his own. His eyes stung.

"Julian. Please."

He tore his gaze away from the klingon and looked into Garak's face. There was a smile on his lips but not in his eyes.

"I ask a lot of you. Why not let me do something for you, for a change?"

He could feel the tears trying to come and oh how his throat ached. "I... I..."

Garak positioned himself between Julian and the klingon. He squeezed Julian's hands.

"Trust me, doctor?" he asked softly.

"You two better figure it out quickly or somebody's getting it in the old fashioned way." The klingon put his phaser against the base of Garak's skull. "And it's looking like it's going to be him."

Julian reached behind him and felt the edge of a desk. He saw one of Garak's eyes slowly close and open again.

"Yes," he whispered, to everything and to nothing.

Garak nodded slowly and stepped closer. He put a hand on Julian's shoulder and one on his cheek. His hands were so rough. Tailor's hands? Leaning in, he pressed his lips chastely against Julian's.

Startled, he twitched backwards. Garak's hands were gentle but held him still in place.

"Trust me," Garak murmured.

Despite his better judgement, he did.

So they kissed, no more than their lips brushing together, and when at last pulled away they looked into each other.

"Well," Garak said. "Are you satisfied?"

"That's it?" demanded the klingon.

"Why do you think the humans call it head? Their heads touch. That's all."

There was silence for a moment and Julian felt weak with relief. Maybe they would get a repreive after all... and then the klingon smashed the grip of the phaser across the back of Garak's head, knocking him to the floor.

"Garak!" He started forward and the phaser went off, striking just in front of his feet. He froze.

"How stupid do you think I am?" the klingon shouted. "I've seen the vids! I know that's not how it works! Now do it right or I will shoot you both right now!"

His mouth had never been so dry. "Garak?"

Garak got to his knees, a hand held gingerly to his head. "I'm alright, Julian. I'm alright."

The klingon shoved Garak's head up against Julian's lap. "Do it. And he better come, or somebody's going to die today."

Every muscle in his body was tensed. God, he thought. Not like this.

His head still against Julian, Garak sighed. "Alright. Julian? I'm going to... I'm going to unfasten your trousers."

He shook his head. Slow at first, then faster.

Garak looked up at him. His hands came to rest on Julian's waist. "Just pretend I'm going to fit you for a suit. You can do that, can't you?"

He felt the fabric part, felt the cool air on his body. The tears came, hot and painful. He reached behind himself and took hold of the desk with both hands and tried to pretend they were anywhere but here.

The klingon laughed. "I'll bet that's the first time a Cardassian has ever been on their knees for anybody."

He was limp when Garak pulled him out, limp and shrunken with shame. Garak stroked a thumb down the side of his penis and he wriggled against the sensation.

"Garak," he said softly and he couldn't stop himself from saying it. "Garak, I haven't... done this before..."

Garak closed his eyes and then looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. "Nor I."

The klingon came around to their sides to see better. His free hand rubbed at his own genetalia.

"Julian," Garak said, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Julian, I'm going to have to get you a little harder than that. Okay?"

He tried to focus on his breaths. Garak squeezed him and he could feel the pulse in his palm, keeping time with his own. As the hand stroked him, back and forth and back, he felt the sobs trying to tear themselves free. He held himself as stiffly as he could, trying to ignore the stimulation.

"I know," Garak whispered. "I know. But you have to let me in."

The klingon heard this. The phaser came back to rest against the side of Garak's skull.

He knew Garak was right. He had to let go, at least a little, just enough to let himself come. He brought one hand away from the desk, shaking so badly, and put it against the side of Garak's head. He knew he couldn't shield it from the gun but he needed to try.

He closed his eyes. Tried to imagine that, if not some one else, somewhere else. He tried to keep his breaths deep, tried to relax his legs, his stomach.

Gently, gently, Garak took him into his mouth.

He struggled. He tried to hold himself back, but Garak's mouth was dry as well, scratching against his sensitive skin. Garak sucked gently, stroked a little with his hand. He felt himself rock back and forth a little, something that used to be comforting but now felt nothing but cold. He could, he could feel the muscles tensing. Garak felt it too, put his other hand onto the inside of his thigh. His head bobbed a little faster.

It felt good. It did. He tried to just let it go, let it happen fast, but he couldn't stop struggling. He felt it in the back of his throat. He let his head fall back.

"I can't," he rasped. "I can't."

Garak pulled his mouth off him and coughed, gasped a little. He kept stroking.

"Garak," he said, tears pouring down his face and filling his nose and mouth and struggling, struggling to hold the sobs in. "Please. Garak, I can't..."

"Julian." Garak's voice was gentle. He pressed his lips to the tip of Julian's penis, and Julian's body bucked. He let go of Garak's head and clung again, desperately, to the desk. "It's going to be okay."

"Please, no," he begged. His voice was rising higher, higher into a whine. "Garak, don't, don't, please..."

Garak kissed the side of his penis again, rubbing his chapped lips along the side. "You're doing just fine," he mumbled.

He leaned back hard against the desk. Something hot and sharp settled in the pit of his stomach. The pressure built, higher and higher until he was shaking violently. Not like this, he thought, not like this not like this not like this...

Garak pulled him in again, and sucked gently, and it all came crashing down.

His legs buckled, and he slipped to the ground, pulling himself away from Garak, and Garak reached out and held him as he trembled. He was still out, and god, everything was a mess. The sobs were harder now, tearing him apart and he let his head fall forward against Garak's shoulder. He felt Garak cough, heard him spit onto the floor. He hated himself. He hated all of this.

The klingon groaned. "Don't you have any self-control?" he demanded, rubbing at himself. "Do it again."

No. He was too sore. He couldn't.

Garak held him tightly, and his lips touched Julian's cheek.

"No," he whispered, hoping to god Garak would understand.

"You're fine," Garak whispered back. "It's okay. It's okay."

"Fine!" shouted the klingon, and he shoved the gun to Garak's temple. "Then one of you is going to do me."

He looked at Garak, and Garak looked back, and then came the phaser fire, so close, the burning of flesh. He wrapped his arms around Garak and held tight, held him so tight, but it wasn't himself or Garak.

Garak pulled him off gently, turned, still crouched down, blocking him from the door.

"Are either of you hurt?" The voice was Odo's. Julian fumbled with his trousers, did them back up again.

"I'm alright." Garak glanced back. "Julian?"

"You're not," he whispered. His voice was weak. He tried to clear his throat but he couldn't, couldn't... "Garak, your head..." He put a hand up, touched the bruise that was rising fast where the gun had struck.

Garak turned back to him. "Julian. Are you hurt?"

The sobs tried to return. He fought them. "I don't. I don't, I don't..."

Garak pulled him into his arms and held him against his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Julian, I'm so very, very sorry..."

"Odo to O'Brien."

Julian knew he was starting to dissociate. He felt as if he were trying to pull away but Garak hadn't reacted and so he knew he hadn't.

"I don't think he's hurt, Odo. Just shaken up."

Five things he saw--a dark stain on the shoulder of Garak's shirt, not dark enough for blood. The blue and green stripes that met under the stain. A flash of yellow and black as some one entered the room. Footprints in the dust on the floor. Some one's tricorder, crushed and broken.

Four things he could feel--Garak's shirt scratching his hands. Garak's chin resting on the top of his head. Sharp stiff ache from his stomach down. Pressure in his temples, along with tension in his jaws.

Three things he heard--Odo and O'Brien discussing something in hushed voices. Garak's breathing, getting slower as time marched on. His own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Two things he could smell--the burst flesh and smoke of the phaser fire. Something else, stale and sour and all too familiar, something he was afraid Odo and O'Brien could smell as well.

"Can you walk, Julian?"

It was unclear who had asked. He hadn't begun to extrapolate who had asked, let alone what they had asked, when Garak opened his arms and somebody pulled him back. He held on tighter, scared to lose the other things he could feel.

"Come on, doctor," O'Brien said to him. "We'll get you out of here."

He looked up at Garak, trying to beg without any words, but Garak looked back as if he didn't even see him. Julian forced himself to let go, and Odo took Garak by the shoulders and he and O'Brien pulled Julian and Garak apart.

"Come on," O'Brien said again. "Look, I'll carry you if I have to, but we're leaving." He scooped Julian up like a child and the ache in his stomach sharpened and he heard himself cry out.

"Don't hurt him," he heard Garak say.

"Well I wasn't trying to..." O'Brien growled to himself and Julian looked over his shoulder, just to be sure, in case the klingon wasn't really. "Sod it. Computer, two to beam up."


	2. Chapter 2

It is late when they arrive back atDS9s medbay, and the two long-term patients are already sleeping in the dim lights of the infirmary. Julian and Garak are seated on examination tables on opposite sides of the room.

Julian feels somehow more tense as they look him over for injuries. He looks over and sees Garak sitting up, head drooping, as the nurse runs the light of the dermal regenerator over the wound on his scalp. Some one pulls the curtain around Julian, and he's asked to undress.

No.

Doctor, you know as well as I do this is only for...

No. Leave the clothes. He will change. But he will not consent to this exam.

When they do leave him alone he struggles out of the his filthy clothes, soaked as they are in bodily fluids of all kinds. He will have them disposed of. He will not wear them again.

What he is left with is an oversized racquetball sweater and a uniform skant he hasn't worn since his Academy days. He wishes he could have showered. Instead he wipes himself down with his discarded shirt. It is too late, though; his skin is tight with dried fluids.

He lies down on the exam table. His legs feel unprotected. He pulls his knees up to his chest and hooks the skant over them. The fabric pulls tight at his skin.

Some one asks the computer to dim the lights and then leaves. Presumably he is to sleep here.

But he can hear Garak breathing, even across the room. A wave of anxiety crashes over him. The sharp hot pain returns to his stomach.

"Julian?" Garak's voice is weak.

He finds he is crying. "If they've left you alone any head trauma is already cleared up. You're safe to go to sleep."

"I know that. I just heard you... I wanted to be sure it was you."

He doesn't feel like responding. He wishes he could sleep. No... shower, then sleep. Possibly forever.

"Dr. Bashir, I wanted you to know why I handled the situation in the way that I did."

He didn't want to know.

"I had thought it would be easier this way, for both of us. I'd hoped you would feel less demeaned with the role I asked you to play. I thought it would be best if... if I took the lead."

What he feels is hurt, humiliated, patronized. "Maybe you underestimated me."

There are tears in Garak's voice. "Maybe I overestimated myself."

He climbs from the table. Slips out from behind the curtain. Crosses to Garak and parts the curtain that surrounds him.

Garak looks up at him and immediately flinches away. Julian looks down and feels something heavy and fearful settle into his heart.

"Handsome as ever, doctor," Garak whispers softly. "Though you've stretched out the fabric somewhat."

There's the pain again, there in his stomach. He doesn't speak. What is there to say?

"Every so often," Garak says, "there comes a day..." His voice trails off. He doesn't look at Julian.

"We don't need to talk about it," Julian tells him, as if that's something noble, as if it isn't counterproductive, as if it isn't something he knows better than to do.

Garak nods once. His arms are crossed tight and Julian knows that he wants some kind of physical comfort, but no matter how innocent the want he can't fulfil it.

"I don't know if I can touch you. Not now, at least."

"I see." Garak turns onto his side, looking past Julian into the darkened room. "I understand, doctor."

For the first time he wishes Garak wouldn't call him that.

"I feel a little wobbly, though. Don't think I'll make it all the way back across the room. Do you mind if I...?"

Garak watches him as he lies down on the bed beside his. "I don't."

"Good night, Elim."

"...Good night, Julian."


End file.
